XOR Dreams: A Lovecraftian Cyberpunk Part The First

Bits and bytes, it was the stuff taught as basics in high school computer
class. Boring, but necessary. At least at first. The flickered out at light speed,
and I get on my computer. I checked logged in, checked email, and jacked out. I had
tried various writing websites since the start of my class, and yet there was nothing
like writing in my notebook at home. To think that, so young, I refused to roam with
other cattle. Other girls, while more beautiful than I, were as close as you could
get to cows. And so few among them, were as tender as the lambs. And, alone in the
darkness, I savor their silence as I fall into a dream. I think of girls getting
their heads taken off by the guillotine. I imagined brief acquaintances I knew at
school dining in the blood of their friends. I became puffed on, and I felt a coolness
like someone watching my under regions with a wash cloth. And I dream of them speaking
the King's French while whispering in my ear. Indeed, the rest of my school days
would be an excellent year.
You wouldn't think someone as harmless looking, would have a thing for blood,
and yet the more my sexuality develops, the more certain desires have intensified
since graduation. I despise of crowded events, like graduation and wedding day. I
prefer to ride horses in the clouds, and seeing shadows split by the illuminated
lights of the street lights. I stalk the night, and the night consents, as I wander
in its shadows. In its shadows, I carry a cane with me, and feel something following
me. Then I wake up, as if from a fall. At times writing of my life is difficult, but
that is because so often it has been far to strange for people to believe. I only
wish it were as normal as vampires who stalk the night. When you see nothing but
emptyness, at times your mind fills in the blanks. And often such thoughts come
alive. And yet for the longest time, I had dreams of being taken aboard by alien
spacecraft, one I remember when I was young, involved a young grey telling me
that I wouldn't be harmed. Many of my sensations of sex, have been with the greys
from the reticulan region. Demons, angels, shadows; all these things are far
more tame, my terrors far darker than the opus of Mein Kamph. For, as you see,
I have gotten away with much, and yet do to the nature of it, almost nobody ever
notices it.
It was midnight, when I had met her. She was wearing a red dress, and
offered to take me in. I had moved out after my parents had died, leaving me
behind at thirty two. And now I go through life wandering if there is any
childhood left to live. In my mind, I dream of fantasy adventures of children
flying gliders, riding on the wings on birds in flight. And yet I go through
my days plying my trade in stream and block ciphers, under the glow of black
candle lights. I never found out her name, yet seemed to take no issue with
spending most of my time writing stories, even in perhaps I never chose to
publish them. Part of it being a matter of self-doubt, and part of it was
the shame of my own sexuality. She read to me some of her middle grade novels
she kept in her younger years. She commented how it seemed I was one of the
few writers still in existance.